Crazy Cat Lady
by WitchwithKids
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are investigating a murder in Colorado that they believe to be the work of a coven of witches. Their primary suspect, however, turns out to be more than they bargained for. Episodic fiction. Set between S4:E02 & S4:E03
1. The Lead

Chapter One

The cat slinked its way from underneath the brand new sports car parked in the driveway of a suburban Denver home. Someone in the house had just turned off the porch light, and the sleek black feline made its way towards the swing in front of the window. It stopped ever-so-briefly on the bottom stair to groom its tail when the curtains fluttered, resuming its course when the coast was once again clear.

The curious beast lucked out when it reached the swing - whomever had moved the curtains had left a small enough gap for it to peek through. Stretching itself out with back paws on the seat and front paws on the window ledge, the cat bobbed its head around to get a better view of the house's interior. It finally settled as the scene unfolded before it.

A man sat at a leather couch, leaning over the coffee table as he opened a bottle of white wine. Two dark-haired women kneeled on the floor next to him, giggling and raising Champaign glasses towards him. He obliged, then glanced at the blonde squatting next to the stereo, who turned the knob for the volume as she stood up and walked towards the trio in the center of the room. The man held out an arm towards her, beckoning with the glass of wine in his hand. He snaked his arm around her shoulders when she took it and she thanked him by nuzzling his earlobe.

On the other side of the glass, the cat didn't understand the strange human mating customs. The females were oddly quiet, and covered the male in an odd tangle of bodies. His grunts of pleasure soon began to take on a more panicked tone as the women took the love-play in a new direction, their voices chanting in rhythm with the sounds of bones breaking and flesh tearing.

The cat knew it should have left, but it was spellbound and compelled to watch the grisly scene. But it stayed for a moment too long. A jeweled pendant on its collar seemed to shimmer a little too brightly in the dim light coming from between the curtains, and one of the brunettes looked up towards the source. A single drop of blood slid down her face just below her left eye, which she winked as she made eye contact with the animal.

The cat shook it off and jumped down off the porch swing as if nothing out of the ordinary had been going on. But the watcher that had been gazing through the pendant gasped from their location, dropping the crystal they had held in their hand. Before it could be recovered, the crystal shattered on the marble floor, breaking the connection between the two scrying talismans.

And the man's screams still echoed in the watcher's ears.

Dean Winchester was leaning over a stack of newspapers with a pen in one hand and a slice of bacon in the other. He was only pretending to read the front page of the top paper, for his eyes kept wandering to his brother who was outside the diner, talking on his cell phone. Absentmindedly, Dean brought the pen to his mouth, only to look at it with disgust before setting it down on the table and replacing it with the bacon. As he chewed, Sam walked through the diner door and slid into the booth opposite from Dean.

"Bobby said there's nothing new popping up on the radar as far as he can tell," he offered, hoping to get a response from the older Winchester. When there wasn't one, he continued. "He says that things are getting a little too quiet for him."

"Good."

Dean's simple reply caught Sam off guard. He stared at his brother, who had torn off another bite of bacon and was chewing innocently while waiting for Sam's response.

"What do you mean, 'good?' We've got the Apocalypse practically at our doorstep and you're not doing anything to find out what the next step is to help prevent it?"

"Nope."

Dean contemplated the last piece of bacon before popping it in his mouth. Sam looked at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean, 'No…'"

Sam was interrupted when Dean picked up the newspaper in front of him and held it up for his brother to look at. The younger brother took it for himself and scanned the article on the front page. First one, then both eyebrows raised as he read further, and finally Sam put it down and looked at Dean.

"Exsanguinations are a trademark of vampires, but there's no word about puncture marks. Hearts being ripped out is something that werewolves do, but it's the new moon, not the full. Are we looking at a sloppy demon?"

Dean shifted in his seat as he grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and tossed a few bills onto the table. Then he stood, grabbed the newspaper, and leaned over towards Sam.

"Witch."

Bewildered, Sam just sat there for a moment, contemplating the possibility that what Dean had concluded was true. After realizing that his brother had slipped out the door while he was zoned out, he got up and met Dean back at the Impala.

"How certain of this are you?" he asked. "Because all we have to go on so far is that one article."

Without a word, Dean reached into the backseat and grabbed the messenger bag that housed Sam's laptop. "Then find more," he said as he dropped the bag into Sam's lap. Then, with a turn of the key, he brought the car roaring back to life and turned towards the highway.

Sam stared at him in utter disbelief. "Dude, what is with you today? You're acting just like you do whenever…" His eyes brightened as he concluded the sentence in his head, but his expression darkened when he changed his statement. "You saw him again, didn't you?"

"Nope."

"And we're back to the one-word answers again." Sam rolled his eyes, glanced out the window at the passing scenery, then turned his gaze back to Dean. "You're always like this after Castiel comes calling on you."

"So," came the reply through pursed lips. Dean was already getting tired of the conversation, but Sam refused to let it go.

"So did he put you up to this or is it something else?"

Dean's mumbled answer was barely audible, but Sam pursued it anyhow, pushing his luck with Dean's temper.

"I said 'I don't know,' Sam. Are you happy now? I don't know. The last time I talked to him, he said to go with my gut. Which doesn't mean sit on the crapper twiddling my thumbs waiting for something to happen, okay? Something about that article jumped out at me, so I'm …"

"…going with your gut. I get it."

With his curiosity satisfied for the time being, Sam finally pulled the laptop from the messenger bag and flipped open the monitor. Content that his brother was going to be quiet for at least a little while, Dean turned on the radio in time to hear the opening chords of Santana's "Black Magic Woman." The brothers looked at each other, then looked away. Dean sighed and Sam shook his head.

"Witch?" confirmed the younger Winchester.

"Yeah."


	2. The Suspect

Part Two

"Why you insist on these monkey suits is beyond me," Dean grumbled as he buttoned his suit jacket, walking up the steps to the hospital in Greely, Colorado. Hey eyeballed Sam, who looked spotless as usual.

"Who's going to believe in a couple of feds wearing ratty jeans and leather jackets?" Sam replied, needlessly straightening his tie when they walked through the door. As they approached the information desk, he flashed a badge and quickly asked for directions to the M.E.'s office. The flustered, aging candy-striper pointed down a secluded hallway off to their left, which the boys turned down without skipping a beat.

"It's worked before," continued Dean, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard.

"And it's also landed your ass in jail before, too. If you want to play make-believe government agents then it helps to look the part."

"Girls play dress-up, Sam."

Sam paused at the door marked "Morgue" and turned to look at his brother. After a moment of frustrated silence, he sighed and opened it, revealing a set of stairs leading towards the basement.

Once he was halfway down the stairwell, he heard from behind him, "Well, they do," followed by Dean's footsteps.

Once inside the Medical Examiner's office, the coordinated Winchester brothers once again showed just enough of their counterfeit ID badges to be believed before tucking them back in the interior jacket pockets. The young woman working at the front desk, however, blushed and looked away before she addressed them.

"I'm afraid that Dr. Owens hasn't come into the office yet today. He's onsite at a traffic accident if you're needing to talk to him," she said. Dean flashed a smile at her when she managed to look up at him, setting off another bashful display of inspecting her desk.

"That's okay," he drawled. "We just need to take a peek at Mr. Tucker."

"But…" the secretary stammered, obviously more nervous for her apparent inability to help them further. "But, his remains were picked up for cremation last night. I … I'm really sorry, sirs."

Dean stood up a little straighter, running his hands down the lines of his jacket and turning up the corners of his mouth. Seeing him prepare to lay on the charm, Sam pushed his brother aside and leaned against the desk to block her view of Dean.

"If you've got the coroner's report, we could get by with a copy of that instead," he told her, glaring back at Dean. The older Winchester raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, conceding defeat.

"I can't believe you," Sam scolded as they left the hospital and approached the Impala. "That poor girl was scared half to death about us being there and you were about to hit on her."

"It would have worked," Dean replied with a smile as he opened the car door and slid into the driver's seat. He wasted no time starting up the engine and hitting the street as soon as the doors were closed and Sam was busy looking for a lead.

"Yeah," came the distracted reply as Sam leafed through the pages of the autopsy report. "But she probably would've been tripping over herself to please you and taken longer to get what we need."

"You're probably right," Dean admitted, nodding his head. "So what are you finding out about Keith Tucker that didn't make the paper?"

"Well, there was just the one wound on the body - the one where his heart was torn out - but a surprisingly small amount of blood found…"

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. That's what leaked to the media. What else ya' got?"

"I was getting to that. See, there's also evidence that he had been…um…entertaining guests at some point in the evening, too."

"Of the female variety?" Dean's eyebrows went up at this new development.

"Yeah. More than one, it seems."

"Wow," came the unemotional reply. "I don't know whether he's a poor bastard or a lucky sonofabitch."

Sam's sly grin displayed his agreement with his brother's statement. But he wasn't done yet. "Either way, it still turned out bad. But the report doesn't give much insight to his lifestyle. However…"

Sam paused for emphasis to get Dean's attention.

"…he didn't have any immediate family in the area. It was a 'friend,'" Sam made the symbol for quotations around his head, "from the local animal shelter that identified the body."

"Did this 'friend' have a name?"

Sam closed the folder and set it in his lap before looking over at Dean.

"Yeah."

"Rhiannon Carpenter? Sure I know her," said the elderly man behind the adoption counter. He looked at the Winchesters curiously as he stood up and began to make his way into the lobby. "She's up here nearly every day. What do a couple of Suits like you need with her?"

Sam watched the man cautiously, picking up on the defensive tone in his voice. Dean was oblivious, having already begun to snoop around the room to look at pictures and read fliers for missing pets. An overweight tabby rubbed up against Sam's arm where he was leaning on the counter, and he scratched its head absentmindedly while he answered.

"We heard that she found Keith Tucker's body and were wanting to get some information from her."

"Well she's not here. Poor Ann's been through enough this week. I told her to stay home."

The old man made a shooing motion towards the cat on the counter, but he was ignored. Instead, it moved in closer to Sam and plopped down with its belly up, expecting more pets. Sam continued to oblige the overbearing feline, and was rewarded with a rumbling purr. The shelter's proprietor sighed and sat back down on his stool.

"Keith was her best friend," he confided. "Had been for over twenty years. They were neighbors as kids - she and her brother were being raised by her dad after her mother ran off, and his parents died when he was little so he was living with his grandmother. Ann's dad passed away when she was sixteen, and she was left to take care of her brother, Randy, by herself. Keith had a bit of a reputation as a playboy back then, too, but he always kept the other boys away from her and never took advantage of her himself."

Dean, who had been listening to the conversation, shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right," he muttered to himself.

"Anyway," the man behind the counter continued, "Randy was found dead a few months back and if it wasn't for Keith she wouldn't have made it through with her sanity intact. And now…well, I just don't know."

"Maybe giving her some time alone wasn't the best idea," Sam suggested, debating whether to glare at the old man or show him a little sympathy. "If you can let us know where to find her, we'll check in and make sure she's okay and not try to bother her too much. Then we'll keep you posted if we think she needs something."

The man folded his hands, unfolded them, then crossed his arms and leaned on his side of the counter. "Okay, but only if you promise to keep her safe…"

Back at the morgue, the secretary nervously dialed her desk phone and waited for an answer. The voice on the other line sounded irritated.

"I'm sorry, but you told me to call if anyone else came around about Keith," she whispered into the phone, looking around frantically as if she were being watched. "They were FBI agents. Badges, suits and everything… I gave them a copy of the coroner's report…well, what else was I supposed to do?…okay…I've already got an extra copy for you…I'll bring it tonight."

A bead of sweat dripped off the girl's forehead and fell onto the desk. With a shaky hand, she placed the receiver back into the phone's cradle and buried her head in her hands.


	3. The Confrontation

Part Three

Dean and Sam Winchester stood before the house of Rhiannon Carpenter in disbelief. From the gated white-picket fence to the tree-swing hanging from the branches of an ancient oak, this house was the picture of country perfection. A front porch that would have made any country granny jealous boasted sun catchers and wind chimes that added to the subtle beauty of the home instead of overwhelming it.

"For some reason I'm not buying the old man's story about this girl," Dean finally said, still staring blankly. "The house is too…"

"Perfect," Sam finished for him, a similar expression on his own face.

"Yeah, like OCD grandmother perfect. I don't get it. If she went to school with Keith, and he was only a few years older than I am, then she's way too young to be living in this fairy-tale cottage."

"Do you think she's the witch we're looking for?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and rested his hands on the gate, hesitating to enter before completely analyzing the situation before him. He glanced at Sam, shrugged his shoulders, then returned to scanning the yard for clues about the individual they had come to speak with. "We're looking for a coven of witches, not just one," he replied. "But I think she's involved somehow. We just need to figure out what part she plays in that whole mess."

A soft sound to their left caught the attention of Sam and Dean, and they simultaneously turned their heads to look at the source. Paused on the sidewalk in front of the neighboring house was a slender figure carrying two burlap bags full of groceries slung over her shoulders. Panic crept into the stranger's face when she met the gaze of the Winchester brothers, and she immediately turned around and ran away, her bags forgotten on the ground.

"Wait!" Dean yelled, trying to get her to stop. When she turned the corner at the end of the block past the next house, he smacked Sam on the arm. "Let's go," he said, breaking into a run. Sam's longer legs took him farther more quickly, and as the younger brother reached the end of the block, Dean noticed a possible shortcut through the unfenced neighbor's yard. Ducking between the houses, he couldn't help but grumble about his current attire being entirely inappropriate for a foot chase.

Dean caught sight of her again once he had cleared the house, but he had to change direction when he noticed that she was running through the alleyway back towards the Carpenter home. By the time Dean had reached the fence, she had already reached the gate and was frantically unlatching the hook to let herself inside the yard. Dean put on a sudden burst of speed, hearing Sam's voice behind him at the end of the alley. Just as she had slipped through the gate and was beginning to close it, he muscled his way past the barrier, knocking down his quarry.

She backpedaled on her hands and feet for a split second before Dean closed in on her. As a last-ditch effort, she turned to get up, but it was too late. She didn't even have time to scream before he slipped his hand over her mouth from behind and pulled her head up to his shoulder. His mouth was inches from her ear as he growled at her, "Why do you people always have to make things difficult?"

She whimpered as he stood, taking her along with him, and he felt her tears rolling down the hand that he had clamped over her mouth. Her breathing was labored and she showed no signs of putting up a struggle. Something about her behavior struck Dean as out of the ordinary, and he began to have second thoughts about his suspicions of the girl. Keeping a firm grip on her, he looked at his surroundings for the first time since entering the yard.

The scent of herbs and autumn flowers hit him as he first realized they were standing in what now amounted to a crushed garden. There was a beautiful weeping Willow tree a small distance away, a gurgling fountain near the back porch and the same white picket fence that guarded the front yard. Something about the fence looked out of the ordinary, so he walked with her back to the gate for a better look.

"What is it?" Sam asked from the other side of the fence. He seemed content to be standing there, leaning against the posts and catching his breath.

"I'm not sure," came the reply. After a closer examination, Dean added, "It looks like someone's inscribed runes on the inside of each fence post, but I can't make out what it's for."

"I'm gonna guess that it's a barrier of some kind," Sam stated matter-of-factly, lifting his hands up to the posts and resting them on the top of the pickets. The girl in Dean's arms was oddly quiet, but the tears continued to spill down his hand.

"Well, what makes you think that?"

"Because I can't get past the gate."

The girl's attempts to scream began in earnest as she squirmed and twisted in Dean's grip. With his frustration renewed by Sam's statement and her renewed interest at evading him, his grip on her tightened. Sam watched the scene between the two unfold, torn between the anger at being left out because of the barrier around the property and the sudden rush of sympathy he had for the terror-struck young woman. The wheels in his head began to turn, then something clicked into place.

Dean had spun the girl around and was about to deliver her a blow to the face when Sam hollered at him, "Dean, stop." The fist came up short by less than an inch as the older Winchester glared at his brother.

"Look at her. I mean, seriously look at her." Dean glanced at the girl, then looked back towards Sam. A half-shake of his brother's head turned his attention back towards the woman in front of him, silent again in fear of the beating she had nearly received. Was it even possible that she had no knowledge of what had happened to Keith Tucker?

"Are you Rhiannon?" he asked. She nodded and tried to lift her arms. Unfortunately, Dean still had a tight grip on her. "If I let you go will you stay put and not make a fuss?" Another nod. Satisfied, he approached his brother at the gate.

"This chick is weirding me out," he confided quietly to Sam, leaning against the opposite side of the fence. "She didn't put up any sort of fight, but she's got her entire home guarded against what I suspect to be pretty much everything and everyone? How does that happen? And for that matter, how do we get you in here? I mean, it can't be as simple as me grabbing you and pulling you through the gate, is it?"

As an attempt to make light of the situation, Dean proceeded to grab Sam by the shoulder and haul him into the yard. Both boys expected resistance, so it came as a surprise when the younger Winchester stumbled through. Shocked, they both looked at Rhiannon, who's surprised appearance matched their own. Dean's eyes took on a glassy stare as he searched for something appropriate to respond with.

"Huh," was all he managed.

Sam sat impatiently on a stool that he had pulled up to the counter island in Rhiannon's kitchen. The way she kept looking at him screamed that she knew about the one thing he had been unable to confide to Dean about, and he hoped that his brother hadn't noticed. But Dean seemed to be more interested in poking his nose into every drawer and cabinet in the pantry after having gone through the entire kitchen first. Rhiannon finally shooed him out on a count of preparing dinner for unexpected guests, but Sam was content to stay put and watch.

He wasn't completely alone. An aging yellow tabby was curled up in the seat next to his own, pretending to sleep. He opened his eyes every few minutes to take a peek at Sam, then closed them, stretched his neck and flexed his claws, looking every bit the role of arthritic old guardian. Eventually, Sam gave in and reached over to scratch under the tomcat's chin, which resulted in a surprisingly loud purr.

So far, Sam had counted four cats since passing through the back gate, and he was certain there were more that he hadn't seen yet. The species was very elusive by nature, but as sure as he was of his assumption, the house was in immaculate condition.

Dean's chuckle from the pantry brought Sam out of his thoughts and drew his attention towards the door at the opposite end of the kitchen where his brother was emerging. The cat count was now at five, for perched on Dean's shoulder was a young white and orange fluff ball.

"Does this little guy always get in the way?" he asked, allowing the cat to rub its face against his jaw. Looking up from her place at the stove, Rhiannon smiled nervously and nodded. Dean lifted his passenger from his shoulder and placed it on the ground, then gave Sam a brief glance which signaled that it was time for the two of them to talk. Sam got up from his place and started to head towards the back porch while Dean cautiously approached Rhiannon. He assumed that his brother was letting her know where they would be.

When Dean came out the door a few moments behind Sam, he was visibly nervous and sat down on the nearest seat. Curious, Sam sat across from him and leaned in to keep the conversation as private as possible.

"Did your snooping around pay off?"

"Yeah. Whatever or whomever it is that killed Keith Tucker is bad ass."

"How do you figure?" Sam's curiosity was piqued. Other than the runes on the fence, which could have been placed by just about anyone, there was no outward sign that Rhiannon Carpenter was anything more than an old-fashioned shut-in.

"This girl's the real deal. She's got a ritual arsenal in that oversized pantry of hers, and I'm willing to bet that it's not the entire collection. But everything I saw that I could read is about _defensive_ magic or herbalism, so she's definitely not any sort of dark ritualist or coven mistress."

"So why does that make Keith's killer such a bad ass?"

Dean's expression told Sam that he should have figured it out for himself, but he continued with an explanation. "Because there's something out there that has her scared out of her mind. She didn't know who we were or what we wanted when she came home, but she wanted to get away from us and get inside the boundaries of her property where she was safe."

"And you got in, which probably spooked her even more." Sam sat up straight, running a hand through his hair. "We're lucky she's not a babbling idiot right now."

"Yeah. My guess is that at some point shock settled in and she's on autopilot right now."

"So what's the plan?"

Dean shrugged and began to loosen his tie. "Beyond changing out of this get-up, I haven't a clue."

The older Winchester had obviously spoken his piece and wasn't open to further discussion. Sam noticed that Dean was still a bit shaken up himself, for he didn't even glance back at his younger brother as he stood up and walked back inside the house.

It was going to be a long night.


	4. Coming Together

Part Four

The aroma of fresh brewed coffee woke Dean the next morning. As he slowly opened his eyes, he remembered the previous day's events and looked around the room before getting up. On the bed next to his own, Sam slept heavily, the faintest hint of a snore emerging from under the covers. There was a faint light peering through the window, and Dean estimated that it was right around daybreak. He hadn't been up that early in weeks, and was thankful for the first decent night's sleep he'd had since returning from the dead.

The guest bedroom that he and Sam had slept in was just off the kitchen, and his nose led him to the fresh pot of coffee that his hostess had left out. Two cups were setting next to it along with a sugar bowl and a small carton of cream that was still cold. Dean bypassed the condiments, but poured himself a cupful before beginning his search for Rhiannon.

He made it as far as the living room before a glimpse of movement at the window caught his eye. It was another one of the many cats that inhabited the property - he and Sam reckoned there were around a dozen - sitting quietly in the windowsill, flicking its tail. Something had caught its attention, and Dean figured he might as well satisfy his own curiosity by finding out what that something was.

It turned out that there was a small greenhouse in the backyard, and with daylight still on the horizon, Dean could clearly see Rhiannon inside. For the first time since he had seen her the evening before, she looked comfortable and relaxed. She was watering the plants, singing along to an out-of-sight radio. Another cat walked along the table next to her as she worked, which she gave an affectionate scratch under the chin. Deciding that the opportunity he had been waiting for had arrived, Dean made his way back through the kitchen and pantry to the back door, heading in the direction of the greenhouse.

For a split second, he considered knocking before opening the door. Rhiannon's back was turned to him, but Dean could see her clearly through the glass. Compromising, he opened the door and knocked on the frame as he entered the building just loud enough for her to hear over the music. She looked surprised to see him, but fear no longer dominated her expression.

"I didn't peg you for a Billy Idol fan," he stated casually, hoping to start off with something to keep her mind from immediately returning to the previous days events. Rhiannon almost hesitated, taking a small step backwards, but then warmed to the comment.

"I wouldn't exactly call myself a fan," she replied shyly, as she reached into a pocket and withdrew a small remote. Pointing it at the wall near where Dean was standing, the music stopped and she returned the remote to her pocket.

"But you at least listen to him, which earns you kudos in my book."

Rhiannon gave him a small shrug and a nod in acknowledgement, but Dean got the distinct feeling that she wasn't impressed. She had stopped her chores to give her full attention to him, and he was drawing out the icebreaker longer than was necessary. _Stupid Dean,_ he thought to himself, and he sighed as he regained his composure.

"Yeah, umm…about yesterday," he began, unable to find the right words that she would believe to be sincere. Dean saw her visibly tense, but she didn't move away or respond. _Stupid Dean, _he though again. "I mean, you were acting suspicious and I lost my temper…"

This time she backed up a couple of steps, leaning slightly on the plant table next to her. Dean sighed again and rubbed his face. He then held his hand out, motioning for her to stop moving away.

"I don't have pretty words," he began, lowering his arm. "That's Sam's job. But I am sorry for overreacting. Partly because we've lost an entire night on looking for answers about your friend's death, but mostly because even after everything I did, you went out of your way to make sure my brother and I were treated well while we were here. And I just don't get it, so I feel bad about it. And I wanted to apologize…"

Rhiannon put a finger to her lips, silently asking him to stop talking. It worked…sort of.

"Sorry. I was rambling again. I do that when…and I'm doing it again."

_Stupid, stupid Dean._

A smile played at the corner of Rhiannon's lips. Dean shook the fog out of his head and grinned back up at her, deciding that he was done talking for the moment.

"Keith's memorial service starts in a few hours," she said, the brief smile fading. Rhiannon looked out the window at something Dean couldn't see before she turned her attention back towards him. "I imagine we'll get some answers there."

When Rhiannon arrived at the funeral home, the black-suit-clad Winchester brothers were a step behind her in their guise as FBI agents. There were a few people who approached her to offer condolences following the service, mostly those she knew from work or had been family friends at some point in her life. But it was soon clear who the majority of the mourners were, and they held themselves aloof from the deceased's best friend.

"Hey," Dean whispered at Sam with a subtle jab to the ribs. "Were there this many girls at my funeral?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but he had noticed the overabundance of women as well. "You didn't have a funeral."

After a little while, the crowd began to thin out and they followed Rhiannon as she made her way towards the front of the building. She slowed her pace as they approached the lobby, coming to a halt just past the doors to the small service chapel they had just come from. Crowded near the front door was a group of five women, and none of them looked like they were planning to move out of Rhiannon's way.

Dean noticed them, too, but Sam had to grab his brother's arm to stop him from bumping into Rhiannon. When Dean shot him a puzzled expression, Sam nodded in her direction.

She had a death grip on her purse strap, and she trembled slightly. A whirlwind of emotions played across her face for a split second - surprise and terror replaced by grief and anger - before Rhiannon briefly closed her eyes and schooled her expression to reflect an outward appearance of calm. Her apparent adversaries, however, did nothing to hide their contempt and bitterness towards her. One of them broke away from the others in the group and approached the trio.

"Ann," she said as she held out her hands in a theatrical greeting. "I'm so sorry about Keith."

"No you're not," Rhiannon replied quietly, backing away to avoid the woman's touch. She closed the distance between herself and the Winchesters, who each placed a hand on her shoulders simultaneously. The grip on her purse relaxed a bit, but she continued to shake as the woman closed in and stopped with only a few inches between their faces.

"You're right. I'm not." She leaned in closer, almost close enough to touch, and spoke into Rhiannon's right ear, peering up at Sam. "Poor Orphan Annie. All alone in the big world now." She pulled back, smirked in Rhiannon's face, then followed suit on the opposite side to bat her eyes at Dean. "If these pretty boys knew your little secrets, they'd drop you like an old habit."

The woman pursed her lips and winked at Dean before abruptly returning to the group of women she had detached herself from to begin with. Taking some sort of unspoken cue, they walked out the door. Once he was certain that they were out of earshot, Dean took the initiative to start a quiet conversation of their own by leaning in towards Rhiannon. Sam followed his lead.

"That's what we're looking for," Dean whispered to them. Rhiannon subtly nodded her agreement.

"So who was that? And what did she mean by 'little secrets'?" inquired Sam. It took a moment for Rhiannon to regain enough composure to respond.

"Megan Cole. And it's a long story."


	5. Explainations

Part Five

If the Winchesters had expected Rhiannon to clam back up after the encounter with Megan at the funeral home, they didn't show their surprise when she began to explain the meaning behind the confrontation once they were on the road to return to her home. Some of the information was expected - the girls had gone to high school together, Megan came from an influential family in the area, and as an adult she had gotten mixed up with a very dark coven of witches. They also found out that the Carpenter family had a long history of witchcraft, practicing the more "natural" magical arts as healers and herbalists, and avoiding confrontation as much as possible.

"So those runes have been there since…" prompted Sam, who had turned in his seat to watch Rhiannon as she told her story.

"The '40's, at least, " she finished for him. "My great-grandmother set them."

"And they were set to keep people off the property?" Sam glanced over at Dean, who caught the look and raised his eyebrows. They weren't sure if Rhiannon had seen the exchange, but it was clear to both boys where they needed to steer the conversation.

"Mostly. There was a way that we could identify who we wanted to have access to the house so that we wouldn't have to greet everyone at the front gate when they came to visit, but for the most part, strangers, dark spirits and demons can't get through."

"Strangers," Dean repeated, looking up into the rearview mirror and meeting the eyes of the young woman in his backseat. The fear crept back into them for a split second as she saw through the concealed frustration on his face, and she turned away from him to look out the window. Dean smacked his palm on the steering wheel, just enough to chide himself for not being more careful around her. Hadn't he already put her through enough? But Sam misinterpreted Dean's actions and gave his brother a stern look.

"Are there any stipulations about who can get in without permission?" Sam asked, returning his attention to Rhiannon. Although she didn't return her gaze from looking outside the car, she managed to get enough of a grip on her emotions to answer.

"A few. Mostly the forces of good and those who chose to follow them."

"Or those who were chosen," muttered Dean under his breath, hoping that Rhiannon hadn't heard. But he had underestimated her sense of hearing, for she looked up at his words and met his gaze once again. Curiosity replaced fear, and Dean gave her a slight nod. After a moment, she returned the gesture.

"So what you're saying is that you think Megan and her friends killed both Keith and your brother?" Dean said between mouthfuls of sandwich.

"I had my suspicions at first, but after seeing her again, I'm certain of it. One of those girls is Randy's ex-girlfriend. I had never met her myself, but there were pictures of the two of them together in his apartment after…" Rhiannon paused to take a breath and looked away for a moment. "The authorities in Pueblo said he overdosed on allergy medicine, which I think is crap, but that's not the point." She looked back at Dean, who was the last of the brothers to speak to her. He saw the suppressed tears in her eyes which threatened to fall every time she squinted with the anger at the situation. "Anyway, something prompted me to check in on Keith the night that he was killed and I saw _that _woman and two others with him. And it was…horrible. There is absolutely nothing in this world or beyond that can convince me to do that to another human being."

"Wait a minute," Sam said, not able to wait any longer to avoid interrupting. "You _saw_ what happened and didn't do anything about it until later on that morning? Why didn't you try to help him if you were there?"

"I didn't say I was there," replied Rhiannon, schooling her voice to keep it steady. Even so, her rising irritation was evident to both Winchesters. One of her cats was in her lap, and she absentmindedly let it nuzzle her chin as she began to calm herself down. "I said that I saw what happened."

"So you're not a witch. You're a psychic," assumed Dean, but Rhiannon shook her head.

"No. Keith's cat has one of my charms on her collar. I had it's mate, and I used them for scrying."

"So you look through one and see out the other," Sam concluded, receiving a nod of approval. "Ok, so how does Megan fit into all of this?"

"Someone, or some_thing_, tipped her off about my family's magical heritage about ten years ago. She botched the spell, but nearly killed me trying to find a way to steal some kind of power. I thought that was the last I'd seen of her. Every now and then I hear about an event that stinks of something she may have had a hand in, but this is the first time she's gone after my friends and family."

"Wait," Dean said, looking from Rhiannon to his brother and back again. "You mean to tell me that we're caught up in some sort of Witch War or something?"

"Not really. But did it ever occur to you why you rarely, if ever, meet a practitioner of the Light? Someone who heals instead of hurts, who works for others instead of for themselves?" Both Winchesters shook their heads, watching Rhiannon as she leaned in towards them, ever so slightly, to emphasize her words. In the light reflecting through the kitchen window, her eyes sparkled mysteriously. "Because we're hunted. The Darkness wants our power, to corrupt it, to take the easy path and make their lives more comfortable. It is easier to hide ourselves in plain sight and protect ourselves and our loved ones than it is to go out and announce to the world that our services are for sale and risk every hunter coming down on us and tearing our lives apart."

"Is it worth it? Living alone like this. Is it really worth it just to survive?"

Dean's quiet words almost broke Rhiannon from her speech, but not before she began to stretch out her arm towards him, continuing her cryptic message.

"I am still young, and I have a long life ahead of me. You have been given a second chance, Dean Winchester," she whispered, scarcely loud enough for both boys to hear. Her outstretched fingers gently brushed his left shoulder, cooling the handprint that had burned itself onto his skin. "Perhaps someday you, too, will discover the benefits of anonymity."

An hour later, Dean rubbed his shoulder where Rhiannon had touched it. He knew that the scar should still be itchy and raw, but he could barely feel anything at all. It was still there - he had checked as soon as he was able to get to a mirror - and there was nothing else physically different about it, but something about what she had said to him was…otherworldly.

_Well_, he thought to himself, _either she really is Glenda the Good Witch or Castiel's been lying about where he comes from. Because they talk an awful lot alike._

Dean was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly tripped over the M.E.'s assistant walking down the candy aisle at the convenience store he had gone to. Her timid plea for forgiveness snapped him out of his inner monologue, and he helped her pick up the bag of chips that she had dropped.

But as soon as their eyes met, Dean knew that he was in trouble.


	6. Confrontations

Part Six

Sam sat in the parked Impala and stared at the property before him in disbelief. The high school football field was one of the last places he expected to be led to once they had learned that Dean had been kidnapped by the coven they had been hunting. A quick glance at a terrified Rhiannon confirmed that he was wrong to bring her with him, but her knowledge of their adversaries was priceless in this situation.

"Why would they bring Dean here?" he asked, looking around for signs of activity. "It's open territory. They could get caught."

"They're in the locker room, underneath the bleachers," came Rhiannon's reply.

"How can you be certain that's what you saw, though? It could have been any athletic facility within a hundred miles."

An odd calm washed over Rhiannon when Sam returned his attention to her. As she replied, he saw a hint of anger creep into her expression. "Because this is where Megan brought me," came the dry answer.

Dean woke up to a dimly lit and odd-smelling room. After blinking a couple of times and shaking the fog from his head, he recognized the flicker of candles and the odor of what could only be described as a mix of soap, mildew and stale sweat. A studied look around the room placed him in some sort of athletic facility's group shower. He wiggled a bit, only to find that his hands and feet were bound. To his dismay, he was also missing a few key items of clothing.

"Where are you, you bitch!?" he exclaimed, not entirely certain that he would get a response. The bindings, for some reason, were beginning to raise his panic level and he struggled against them, only to find that they were, in their own turn, secured to the floor to keep him from escaping. A woman's chuckle echoed through the room, and Dean froze in place with his eyes glued to a dark doorway.

The woman that had confronted Rhiannon earlier in the day stepped through. Her red-trimmed black robe was unbelted, and under it she wore little other than skimpy underclothes. Under normal circumstances, Dean's reaction would have been different, but his thoughts were centered on how to get out of the situation he found himself in. He tugged at the ropes as Megan walked towards him, heels clicking on the tile.

"This isn't the response I normally get," she said, pulling the robe back on one side to retrieve a knife that had been tucked into her garter belt. "But I'll get what I want one way or another." She stood over him now, and her features began to warp. "The girl you're protecting. Rhiannon. She used to look like this…"

Dean knew that it was only an illusion of some sort, but the witch now wore the features of a younger Rhiannon, who was surprisingly attractive given the methods she now used to hide herself. He tried to shake the image out of his mind, but when he looked up again he still saw the innocent young woman looking down at him. She was beginning to kneel down towards him, but she was suddenly knocked off balance and went tumbling into the wall behind him. Dean heard gunfire in another room, and was about to thank the cavalry for arriving when a gust of wind blew through the room and snuffed out all the candles.

He heard Megan as she began to regain her footing, but the ropes at his feet suddenly went slack just as he was beginning to panic. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw another slight figure - the real Rhiannon - scrambling towards him, moonlight glinting off the knife she held. But before she could reach her goal, the cloaked silhouette of Megan lunged at her, knocking the blade from her hand and sending Dean's would-be rescuer to the ground.

More gunshots led him to believe that Sam was busy taking care of the rest of the coven, but his concern was for the activities in the shower room. The two women grappled with one another, each chanting at the other in a different language. Megan should have had the upper hand physically, for her stance showed Dean that she was used to physical confrontation, but the cloak she wore slowed her down and got in the way. It gave Rhiannon a much needed edge physically, but she was still susceptible to whatever it was that Megan was conjuring.

All at once, the showers began to blast cold water down upon them all, but Rhiannon's scream of terror gave Dean the added incentive to begin looking for the knife that had gone sliding from her grip moments before. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Megan picking herself up off the floor, and Rhiannon was backing herself into a corner. A hint of the metallic scent of blood began to permeate the room, and Dean's search became more urgent.

The knife was just past where the women had been wrestling, but with the coven leader's attention on the frightened recluse, Dean had a chance to get a foothold on it and slide it to where he could cut the rest of his bonds. He didn't expect Megan to continue backing up, and she conveniently tripped over his legs. Because of the wet, bulky cloak and tall stiletto heels she was wearing, she was unable to regain her balance. Where magical intervention had failed, sheer dumb luck succeeded. Megan went down, and her head cracked sickeningly on the wet tiled floor.

Sam arrived in the room just as Dean had begun to cut himself free from the ropes. He took one look at the cloaked woman and frantically looked around for the other two. Dean tilted his head in Rhiannon's direction and winced at his brother's hiss of surprise at her condition. By the time he had cut his bonds, Sam had already gathered her up in his arms and was on his way out the door.

Back at Rhiannon's house, Dean could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room where Sam was asleep. Curiosity had kept him awake for most of the night, and he sat on the edge of the bed, watching as she rested.

"What will you do when she wakes up?" came a voice that was becoming all-too familiar. Dean didn't turn to face Castiel, but he did answer him.

"I haven't really thought that far ahead. But now that you're here…"

"You want to know why you were sent here."

The angel's bluntness shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. Dean nodded, but only because it was _exactly _what he was about to ask.

"Rhiannon possesses certain skills and knowledge that will be useful to the work that you do."

"But she's a witch."

"It's not that simple. Someday her purpose will be more clear."

"And just how far down the road is…" Dean finally decided to face Castiel, but when he turned around the angel was gone.


End file.
